


Chasing Flowers

by taizi



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's an old tradition in our town; on the second week of the second month of the year, you leave flowers for the one you love, for them to follow back to you. By their house, where they work, nooks and corners that are special secrets between just the two of you." </p><p>(Luffy's crew leaves him flowers, and an old innkeeper gets drawn into the chase.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bell above the door announces a tall young man- no, that's a lad yet; for all those scars and muscles, and the gleaming swords secured at his right hip, there's a youth in his face that's unmistakable when he glances toward you with a flick of a single green eye. He doesn't hesitate in making his way over with long, unhurried strides, an economy of motion you haven't seen the likes of in years.

"'scuse me, old man," he says without preamble, "but I was hoping I could ask you a small favor."

You take a pull from your cigar then set it aside in an ashtray behind your desk. "I'm running a business here, son. Don't have any time for silly shenanigans." Your voice is gruff and harsh, not by any design of yours, and it's off-putting for some people; but the boy's mouth tugs up in a smile, easing some of the hard lines of his face. He pulls a plain envelope out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see.

"I just need to leave this with you," is what he says, and you take it. "Someone will come by for it soon. Is that alright?"

Intrigued, you grunt noncommittally. "'spose I could do that much."

The boy bows his head slightly in thanks, and leaves without another word. You set the envelope on your desk, safe behind the counter, and return to your booklog.

Today is a local holiday, and you know you won't be busy. The sunlight is warm, pouring through the open windows like translucent gold, and a few of your windchimes ring outside. You sit back in your chair with a sigh, feeling the full weight of all your years.

The silence is broken some time later, by the bell again; and this time it's a child standing in the door, blinking wide eyes at you through the half-lit room.

"Hey, old man," he says, "is this an inn?"

You take your time sitting up, old bones protesting every inch of the way, and give him a once-over. He's a gangly little thing, dressed in denim shorts and an eye-smarting red jacket, and a hat hangs around his neck on a string.

"Aye," you finally say. "Odd to come looking for a place, not knowing what it is."

He trots in, looking around at the antiques lined on shelves, the framed portraits and loose photos tacked to the walls, the dog-eared books lying on one of the tables.

"I guess today is special or something," he says, eyes tracing the pencil drawing of a dragon left by a little girl three years ago. He glances at you and frowns. "They told me I had to chase flowers. But I don't know what they meant!"

"Ahhh, so they have you chasing flowers, do they?" You chuckle, and he tilts his head at you. You beckon him over, warming to the little slip of a boy as he leans on the counter with round eyes. "It's a tradition in our town, has been for as long as I can remember. On the second week of the second month of the year, you leave flowers for the one you love for them to follow back to you. By their house, where they work, nooks and corners that are special secrets between the two of you. Nowadays, it ain't uncommon to leave candies or presents, or even letters, instead." At this, you pick up the envelope for him to see, and his face lights up. "But we still call it Chasing Flowers anyhow."

He tears it open and lays the paper flat on the counter so you can see, too; you pull the lantern a little closer, and blink in surprise to find not a letter or a love-note, but a riddle.

_What has a bed, but needs no sleep?_

_Has a mouth, but needn't eat?_

_O'er stick and stone it rolls and bends,_

_while not forever, it never ends._

_Most by its name speak not at all,_

_but for you one sings should you call._

You both pause, look at each other, and then bow closer to read it again. The kid is turning his head this way and that, like a different angle might shed a new light on the puzzle, and you rub your chin.

"Huh. It has a bed and doesn't sleep." You ponder it, and snort. "First time parents?"

"Flowers have a bed," the boy pipes up. "Robin says so. She plants all sorts of flowers in a flowerbed, and when they open up all pretty she puts 'em in my hair."

"That may be, but flowers don't have mouths, do they?"

"Most don't." That was certainly a strange remark, but he misses your bewildered stare because he's casting his gaze around absently in thought. "So it has a bed and a mouth, and it doesn't end but it does someday, and it rolls and bends over sticks and stones- "

His frank summation has it all making sense to you, and you smack the countertop. "I think it's talking about a river. A river has a bed, and a mouth, where it meets a larger body of water, like a lake or a sea." He beams, delighted, and you feel a grin of your own stretch across your aged face.

"A river, then! You're a smart guy. But what river?"

"That must be in these last two lines, here."  _Most by its name speak not at all, but for you one sings should you call._ Well, you'd certainly never heard of a river singing, and certainly not at anyone's beck and call. "I admit, I'm stumped."

Suddenly the boy is laughing, a rich, thrilling sound that fills the room. "Oh! Oh, I know! It's not a river after all, old man!"

You're amused just watching this lively child, and unbeknownst to you, your grin has softened into something fond. "Alright, smart lad, then what is it?"

"It's a brook!" He shoves away from the counter to race for the door, calling gleefully over his shoulder, "It's  _my_ Brook!"

You fold the page and slide it back into it's ruined envelope carefully, chuckling to yourself.  _What a wild thing._

It's been a long, long time since you've chased flowers; you had all but forgotten the thrill of it, of blossoms left to guide you, of the  _care_ that went into arranging each one so you'd see, thoughts of  _you_  in every leaf and every petal.

You had all but forgotten.

When the boy comes bursting back inside, tugging a  _skeleton,_ of all things, in after him, his eyes are eager and bright, a smile about to split his face in two.

"Brook has the next flower!"

The skeleton laughs, and tips his hat, and you move out from behind your desk to join them at a table, setting down with a sigh in an armchair, smiling when the kid scoots Brook's chair right up against yours and settles himself on the skeleton's knees, holding out his hands for the clue, giggling when bony fingers card fondly through his hair.

You think of orchids, left on your windowsill and in your coat pockets, pressed between pages of your books, held to your lips- when you were young and handsome, when you thought you had forever.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yohohoho! It really is such a pleasure to have met you, Mr. Innkeeper, and I can't thank you enough for your kind indulgence in our game today!"

"Ah- no, that's fine, but shouldn't we be worried about- "

"Hm? Oh, no! He does this sort of thing all the time! Usually on the shipmast, though, or the sails and rigging."

That's not much of a comfort, somehow, as you watch him scale the tree. He's incredibly limber, already halfway up, but you catch your breath each time his hand or foot slips a little.

You root in your pocket for the remains of the crisp, hollow cookie Brook had given the boy back at the inn; broken into pieces, a small slip of paper had fallen out from the middle. You were stunned at the amount of thought that had gone into the thing, while your two guests laughed.

 _"He's amazing,"_ the boy said proudly.  _"He can bake a cookie with a secret inside!"_

You squint at the paper now, reading it again for the third time. "Why exactly is he doing this? The clue says to "find bravery," and as soon as we get here, he shoots up that tree like a squirrel."

The skeleton chuckles, and leads you forward. As you get closer, you find- rather small, somewhat crudely painted- a white skull and crossbones on the trunk of the tree. You have _no_ idea how the boy found it as fast as he did, since you didn't see it at all until now.

"This is usually a sign of warning or death," you say dryly, and Brook laughs.

"I can see what you mean! My captain is a rather romantic man, you see, and for him, and by extension the rest of us, the Jolly Roger is a symbol of conviction." You can't judge his expression very well, since he doesn't have a face, but his voice is warm. "It's not an easy life, not all the time, but it's a very, very brave one."

A branch snaps above you and you jerk your head up; but no, the boy is still scurrying through the leaves, and you relax with a sigh.

"So you're pirates, are you?"

He nods and starts to speak, but pauses and glances up instead; you don't have time to follow suit before the boy is dropping from the tree like a stone, landing solidly on both feet, waving a leather pouch in victory.

"I found the flower!" he cheers, grinning hugely. "This is so fun, Brook!"

The skeleton nods so emphatically you start to worry about his neck. "I must agree! It's so fortunate that we happened to dock at this island in time to join in their festivities!"

"You bet! How lucky!"

They gravitate toward a park bench, and you take a seat while the boy flops into the grass, scooting up on his knees to use the seat of the bench beside you as a table. He pulls loose the drawstring of the pouch and upends it, spilling its contents out for you and his skeleton to see.

There are several paper Bellies and a piece of parchment, rolled tight and held shut with twine. He's practically vibrating with excitement as he fumbles with the parchment, and when it finally comes open, he actually sighs in pure glee.

"A  _treasure map_." Brown eyes are as big and bright as whole stars as he beams up at you, holding it up like physical evidence, almost plaintive as he continues, "A  _treasure map,_ old man," and a smile tugs at your mouth before you can help it, and you lift it from his hands to take a closer look.

It's hand-drawn, and  _well._ Better than some of the published maps you've seen in books. You're stunned by the handiwork, by the custom legend in the bottom right corner, the oranges drawn in the margins. It's simple, and you can guess off-hand where it's going to lead, but just like the riddle and the cookie, it took so much  _care._

The skeleton helps you to your feet, and the boy is leading the way down the road with the map held up to the sunlight, the smile on his face almost enough to rival the big blue sky.

* * *

"Usopp!" The boy is  _flying_ across the plaza into wide open arms. The strapping young man, with a long nose and a thick ponytail, laughs out loud and hugs him tight, grinning at you and the skeleton as you approach.

"You must be the innkeeper," he says, voice a rush of respect and warmth for a relative stranger; his blatant kindness takes you aback. "Thanks for helping us out! It's great to meet you!"

You shuffle. "You too, kid."

"Usopp, we followed the map to you," the boy exclaims, producing the Bellies. "What do we do with these? It doesn't say."

"Well, we get lunch with them, of course. You must be starving, Lu."

The kid lights up-  _Lu,_ is that his name- and you find yourself buoyed along with the group to a small corner cafe you recognize; the woman who owns it is a single mother of five, her husband having abandoned his responsibilities for a carefree life on the sea, and she somehow manages to keep her family and her business afloat all on her own.

You sit at the counter with the little band of pirates and from the way the two boys are carrying on, they must be about the same age and something like best friends. The skeleton is calmly sipping from a cup of tea with an absurdly unnecessary amount of noise, the boys are getting louder with each moment, gesturing wildly with their arms and laughing like their lives depended on it, and you catch the tired owner of the restaurant covering her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle helpless chuckles of her own.

"Do you have the next flower, Usopp?" Lu asks through a mouthful of sliced beef, and Usopp nods, rummaging through a pocket; the owner glances up, pleasantly surprised.

"You're chasing flowers?"

"I am! My friends are  _amazing,_ look at these flowers they left me!" And he scatters cookie crumbs and crumbled papers on her clean counter, unfolds the map for her to see, and beams at her with possibly two-thirds the radiance of the sun.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and it makes her look as young as the day she opened her restaraunt, with a baby on her hip, a husband on her arm, and a dream whole worlds wide. She puts down her cleaning and leans over to admire his precious haul.

"These are  _lovely_ , sweetie."

Usopp is resting his chin in his palm, grinning fondly, and Brook is laughing into his teacup, as you watch Lu work a certain, underrated kind of magic you've only seen once or twice before in your life; right before your eyes, the tired mother leans against the counter to tell a flower story of her own, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked with laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Usopp gives Lu a spinning top. It's blue and pink and patterned in stars; Lu turns it over in his hands with an  _"ooooh."_

"Have you seen one of these before?"

For a moment you think Usopp's question is directed to you, and you look at him oddly. Spintops weren't new when  _you_ were young, you don't know why he would think to ask you that.

But you realize he's looking at Lu, who pushes his straw hat back a little and holds the spinning top up to the sky curiously.

"I haven't! Is it a toy?"

Brook reaches a long arm over the boy's shoulder to pluck it out of unresisting fingers. "Yohoho, allow me to demonstrate, captain!"

_Captain? Who, Usopp?_

The skeleton places the toy point-down on the countertop and spins it with a flick of bony fingertips. The stars actually light up as the colorful thing whirls and whirls, and all four of you lean in closer to watch. It spins faster and starts to steam, you hear impossibly small gears grinding as some sort of mechanism you have no hope of understanding goes to work, and suddenly the top unfolds with a burst of soft white confetti like cotton.

At it's center, oddly enough, is a small pink blossom.

The pirates are very still, faces screwed up into carbon copies of the same intensely focused expression.

You scoop up some tufts of the white confetti, decide to break the thoughtful silence. "When this came bursting out of there, I thought of snow."

"Same here, sir!" Usopp agrees with enthusiasm. "That's exactly what it looked like!"

"Ohhh, wait! This one's easy," Lu says suddenly, beaming. He picks the little blossom up, more careful with the delicate petals than you might have thought him capable of, and when Usopp blinks at him, his grin only gets wider. "You don't know it, Usopp? Even though you had the flower?"

The young man makes a face at him. "It's Franky's 'flower,' not mine!"

"Ah, I'm dying of curiosity," the skeleton whispers plaintively, then pauses and looks right at you with empty eyesockets. "Ah, but I've already died. Yohohoho!"

 _Oddball._ "Well tell us, boy. What's the answer?"

"I think the answer will be at a candy store," Lu says with utmost confidence, and sudden comprehension dawns on Usopp's face as well. They share huge grins, and look at you like Cheshire cats. You roll your eyes with fondness, and grumble, and agree to show them the way.

The skeleton offers you his arm, and you take it, easing yourself up out of the chair and following their merry little band down the street. Lu walks backwards to look at you, and you notice with some amusement the way Usopp gravitates closer almost at once, in case he trips.

"Hey, old man, did you know? There's an island of snow on the Grand Line called Drum, and once we saw cherry blossoms bloom there!"

"Cherry blossoms?" Brook asks cheerfully. "On an island of snow? I think I've heard that story before."

* * *

A little animal runs on two legs to meet them at the door, and Lu scoops it up off the ground and into a hug faster than you can say "what?"

 _Antlers, so it must not be a raccoon-dog._ You guess it might be a deer, a reindeer if it came from a winter island the way the boys were teasing it might, but you keep your mouth shut until introductions are made. And sure enough, right away;

"This is Chopper, the amazing reindeer doctor!"

The little guy giggles, and nuzzles Lu's cheek, hugging him around the neck as far as his short arms will go, and you don't even startle when it talks, because there's already a _living skeleton_ holding your arm and you're plum out of surprise for the day. "Shut up, saying that doesn't make me happy!"

But he looks incredibly happy, words notwithstanding, and you smile.

"So, Luffy, you're having fun? You are, right?" Chopper pats Lu's-  _Luffy's-_ cheek with a tiny hoof. "We all thought you'd really love it, so- "

"I really love it!" Lu agreed, bringing Chopper against his chest in a crushing hug, the little reindeer tucked under his chin like he belonged there. "I haven't had this much fun since the flying sheep!"

Brook laughs at your side, and Usopp grins, flushed and pleased, even though what he says is, "Luffy that was like three days ago."

The boy's response is to reach out and drag him in for a hug, and somehow you and the skeleton get hauled in as well, though you're almost certain there's no way his arms could have stretched around the young man and the reindeer to reach you-

But you're not thinking about that, really. You're arm-in-arm-in-arm with laughing, cheering children- pirates- who spent the day enjoying an old man's company. And Luffy, with the worn, scuffed straw-hat he's holding to his head, a leather bag hanging around his neck and a spintop clutched in one hand,  _almost_ glows.

His friends, though, who look across at each other and share secret, happy smiles- who press in to his arms and hold him close, who bake hollow cookies, and draw maps, and write riddles, and build toys, all for the same boy- they  _certainly_ do.

Chopper worms his way up to whisper in Luffy's ear.

"I have the last flower."

Usopp leans in from Luffy's other side. "Is it another clue?"

"Nope! Just a message:  _hurry up!"_

Luffy grins, and the day is almost over.


	4. Chapter 4

As you walk, Luffy runs ahead and trails away and doubles back, a hurricane of energy; Usopp calls out, "Don't get distracted, captain," and the scarred boy tosses an urchin grin over his shoulder.

Because apparently that's what he was.

You should be more surprised than you are, but what else could he have been, really- a cook? Navigator? The musician, maybe. None of them sit quite right with the image of that boy in your head, and he doesn't seem the type any crew would hire for extra labor, or an extra fighting hand. Not with his round eyes and that worn straw hat.

"So how did that lad get to be captain of your crew?" you ask, and the little reindeer tilts his head.

"He's always been captain," he says, the way some people describe seawater as 'salty.' And his nose scrunches a little, like he's confused why you would ask.

 _These pirates,_ you're beginning to think,  _operate with laws of nature and reason all their own._

Brook laughs suddenly, startling you, and tips his oversized hat with a flourish. "Mr. Luffy saved me," he says cheerfully, "from solitude and despair. He found me drifting in a dark sea, and didn't scream at the sight of my face! Yohohoho!"

You stop walking to stare at him, because for all that he seems a little unbalanced, a little cracked, that didn't sound like a joke. Usopp reaches over to put a hand on Brook's arm with a sideways smile, sincere as he says, "You scared me at first, but now I dunno what we'd do without you."

Chopper bounces on his feet, waving his arms. "Mr. Innkeeper! For me, Luffy got rid of a bad guy on Drum, and then Doctor's cherry blossoms bloomed!" His eyes are huge in his face, but nothing next to the smile he's sporting as he all but shouts, "He called me his friend!"

You look at him for a long moment, back up at the skeleton who's still holding his hat in the air in something like a salute, and then you follow his empty eyes forward, to Luffy, who's been roped in by some children playing marbles on the sidewalk.

"We wouldn't be pirates if he wasn't our captain," Usopp says, fond and firm. "For every one of us, he showed up out of nowhere and changed our whole lives, and after that- when he puts out his hand, and asks you to go with him- "

"It must be impossible to say no," you finish for him, and he grins.

"It's impossible to think it. At that point, you're his already."

"And here we thought it was Luffy making you late," comes a deep drawl from behind your little group; when you turn, you're faced with the one-eyed boy from this morning, hair pushed back with a scarf and flannel shirt unbuttoned, to showcase a long scar crossing the length of his chest up to his shoulder. He looks stern and, at the moment, unimpressed. "But instead it was you guys."

"Zoro!" Chopper shouts, and beats on his leg with his hooves. "You're not supposed to be over here, you're supposed to be waiting at the wharf!"

"It's on my way," he says plainly- which didn't make too much sense, you think, since the wharf was definitely the opposite direction in which he'd been headed- and Chopper and Usopp both gape at him incredulously.

" _You got lost, didn't you!"_

"Ah!" That was Lu's voice, and he's looking up from the marbles in his hand with a wide grin. "Zoro! You're here! I knew that last flower was yours!" Unlike the way he sought out Brook, and ran to Usopp, and scooped up Chopper, he takes his time standing, and brushes off his knees, pushes his hat out of his eyes, waves goodbye to the kids, turns; and in that time, Zoro has walked to  _him_.

They meet each other smile for smile, and Zoro- you could see it as he walked away toward Luffy, and so could the tittering pirates beside you- pulls the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. It's almost ridiculously large, wrapped in plastic and soft crepe paper; nestled in with the blossoms are beads and loops of ribbon, and confetti stars that stick to Luffy's hands and face as he breathes it in and runs careful fingers over delicate stems.

His grin is flushed and pleased now, and even though he doesn't say anything, and Zoro doesn't either, you feel like they've held an entire conversation in their silence.

A slip of paper falls from the bouquet's wrapping and lands at Luffy's feet. He snatches it up, with the flowers cradled in the crook of his arm, and holds it at Zoro. "What's this?"

"What does it say?"

You've gravitated closer to join them, and Usopp is peering over Luffy's shoulder, while Chopper jumps up and down in an attempt to see and Brook easily towers over them all. Bones protesting all the way, you bend and lift the little reindeer up, ignoring the subsequent ache in your back because the creature  _beams_ at you.

Coupled with Usopp's warmth and respect, Brook's gentlemanly way of pulling out chairs and holding doors, Zoro's command of attention and the scars on his bodies like trophies, the riddler, the map-maker, the cook, and the toy-builder, and  _Luffy_ ; you think,  _These pirates are very dangerous people._

They've pulled you in like a puppet on a string, and you never noticed.

And, as Luffy laughs and waves the paper in the air _\- "All the flowers are saying something different! Robin wrote down their language on this page!"-_ you understand what Usopp meant earlier, because all you do is laugh along with them.

* * *

You see them off at the harbor, waving until their grand lion ship is out of sight. They all hugged you fiercely, the flower-makers introducing themselves to you warmly in the split-second they had before Luffy  _mobbed_ them with thanks and praise and awe.

You smiled fondly, because they blushed and preened under his attention, and Brook graciously offered to walk you back to your inn.

"That's alright, I can manage." Truth be told, you'd rather get the goodbyes over with. You're sorry to see these kids go. "Be safe out there."

Usopp shakes your hand one last time, smiling widely. "We really appreciate what you did for us today."

Chopper hugs your leg since it's about all he can reach, and says, "Thank you, again! Thank you!"

Luffy, with those stars on his face- and how did he get some in his hair?- turns to you with a grin, releasing the cook and reaching arms out toward you in turn. "I had fun, old man!" he says. "We'll definitely come back to this island someday, and chase flowers again!"

You hobble back to your inn as it gets dark, every muscle aching, and with that lively bunch gone you feel older than ever.

But when you push open the door, you're greeted with flowers. Easily hundreds of them, on every flat surface, open and blooming and beautiful. On the coat rack by the door there's a small note taped,

_Thank you!_  
_(We owe you the flowers; you've done plenty of chasing!)_

and it's signed with a hatted Jolly Roger.

You think of orchids, and years spent watching families check in and out; think of the trinkets and books and pictures left behind, things you keep for the next weary traveler, things that come and go and sometimes stay.

When you make it to your chair, there's a single sunflower leaning there, almost as long as you are tall, and the day's newspaper.

* * *

As time goes by, people comment on the sunflowers you keep by the window; they'd say, "Those really brighten up the place," and they'd be right.

They never comment on the Wanted picture, cut out of newsprint and hung with care on the wall. Maybe they've never noticed it, or maybe they don't care.

If they did, they'd probably say it matched the picture hanging on the wall behind the counter of the little family-owned restaurant on the plaza, a picture with the same grin and the same straw hat.

And they'd be right.

As time goes by, you think less about orchids.


End file.
